Today' blog post is in honor of the King of the Beats, Jack Kerouac. Forty years ago, yesterday, he drank some whiskey for breakfast and then ate a can of tuna fish. A few minutes later he was rushed to hospital for coughing up blood. He died shortly thereafter. It was an inglorious end to a life filled with wandering and writing in search of an ever elusive beatific vision.
Here is Kerouac at his height, riding the sensation that was On the Road:
And shortly before he died, on Firing Line with William F. Buckley, jr.
We're starting a Dr. John inspired band. - I'm gonna play the bones. I don't think the world is ready.
3 years ago